Whats and whys
by madriadne
Summary: James is bored; Lily has an essay to work on. They banter. The usual.


"Why."

Lily was seated in the Common Room, her eyes trained on a rather heavy tome in her lap, her lips nervously tugging at the end of a quill that seemed to have suffered quite a lot of that during its existence. She frowned, bit at her quill, and let out a very quiet, but very pained grunt.

James tucked away the map, which he'd studied for his friends' locations (the traitors all had more important things to attend to than James' boredom, like detention and prefect duty), propping up in his armchair to get a better look at Lily. Her growing exasperation, evidenced by nine of her usual ten tell-tale signs (not that James knew all ten or anything) gave the promise of something interesting happening soon. A tantrum, he hoped. Lily Evans was much more amusing when she stopped pretending to be cool and unbothered.

She underlined something almost victoriously, as if she had figured it out finally. A second later, she leaned back, whispering faintly: "What. _What_."

James pushed his armchair in her general direction, mostly because he knew the sound it made against the wooden floor would irritate her immensely. "Having trouble with your homework, Evans?"

"No." Lily scowled. "It's going splendidly."

"Really? Because, from where I'm standing, you've spent the last ten minutes mostly listing interrogative pronouns."

"You're not even standing." She rolled her eyes as if he was irrationally stupid. "And I'm just thinking out loud."

"Well, if that's what you're thinking, I would say you _are_ in trouble."

"That's not all I'm thinking. Obviously. It's just ... my thought process is so vastly complicated that your brain couldn't even begin to comprehend it, which is why the only thing your ears are capable of hearing are whats and whys. Because that's exactly how confused _you_ are. About my immense intellect. And all." She concluded her impeccable argument with a little 'ha!' sound, which she usually reverted to whenever she wanted to make the impression of proving a point while being perfectly aware of the fact she was talking out her arse.

James smiled. "Alright. Suit yourself. I was going to offer some help, but since you obviously don't need it..."

"I don't."

"I'm glad."

Lily dramatically turned his back to him. James shook his head, but could not shake his smile.

Something had shifted in the dynamic, though. Lily couldn't help but glance at him every now and again – a feat which included quite a lot of shifting and grunting from her armchair every time she did so. Finally, he looked up, seeing an odd mixture of hope and disdain on her – usually mostly disdainful – face.

"Need something, Evans?"

"What?" she said, in that ridiculous high-pitched voice with exaggerated-posh accent she adopted when trying to be suave.

"You're staring at me, you know."

"I most certainly am not." She turned her back again, and mumbled into the cushion, "I never stare at you. Ugh."

"You _always_ stare at me," he said, pausing to let her snort derisively, "But most of the time it's just for my devilishly good looks. This time, I feel, there are ulterior motives at play."

"I am literally not even looking at you."

"Alright," James said. "Suit yourself."

The next minute or so went by rather quietly. James took the map out once more to see if any of his bastard friends were done with having obligations. They weren't. Without lifting his eyes immediately, he could hear Lily shifting in her armchair again. Again, his mouth curved ever so slightly, in a way he wasn't able to properly perceive, let alone adequately hide.

"Like what you see?"

"Shut up," Lily said. "You're not that clever."

"Well, neither are you."

This seemed to have hurt her deeply. "I know," she sniffed.

"Oh, come on, Evans. You are clever."

"Well, I bloody well know I am!" She frowned. "Most of the time, anyway. However, I am very much not clever right now. It's distracting."

"What is? The fact that we're in the same room? Can't control your womanly impulses around me, eh?"

"I find your presence about as distracting as someone might find ... Satan."

"So..." James grinned. "Very?"

"Um." Lily scrunched her nose. "I think I might have drawn a very wrong comparison."

"Or, subconsciously, a very right one?"

"Well, obviously, it's true I view you as nothing less than Satan, but that's hardly on a subconscious level."

James pretended to be hurt. "Well, there goes your shot again."

"My shot at what?"

"Your shot at both me helping you with that essay _and_ me letting you take me out on a date." He lifted his chin up high, pretending not to look at her, while also glancing at her rather obviously. Gauging her reaction, perhaps.

"One of those is something I definitely don't even want," she said.

"One of those? So you do want to take me out sometime? Buy me dinner, take me dancing, kiss me under the shining stars?"

Lily was almost flustered; Lily was definitely annoyed.

"I knew this day was coming," James said. "Got my outfit ready and everything. How do you feel about velvet robes?"

"I don't ..." Lily almost smiled now. "You are ridiculous."

"Not as ridiculous as your subtle attempts at seducing me."

"Subtle – _what_?"

"Well, yes," James nodded solemnly, "I agree there is nothing really subtle about it, but hey, I'm not one to make fun of someone who's so clearly trying. Which is really the only thing that matters."

"I can't even begin to address that load of rubbish right now," Lily said. "I honestly don't know where to start."

"Start by giving me the book."

"What?"

"I'm helping you with the essay. C'mere."

"I don't need help with it!" She said, because she was programmed to refuse other people's help, especially when it came from James. But the jig was up. "I really need help," she said.

"I know – I've waited for this day a long time, too. You're about to get tutored real good."

"Well, that doesn't sound sinister at all."

He smirked. She rolled her eyes. The usual. She got up and plopped herself down next to James. He went on blabbering about Transfiguration, and she paid attention every now and again. Her head started hurting so she had to lean it onto his shoulder; and his legs got atypically cold so he had to pull her legs in his lap.

The usual.


End file.
